That is your answer." "Begone, now, you scoundrel," said the father, "and not a word more out of your head." "Gintlemen!--gintlemen!"-- exclaimed the pedlar, "have you no consciences?
Is there no justice in the world?
The misery, and sorrow, and sufferin's of this misfortunate family, will be upon you, I doubt, if you don't do them justice." "Touch the bell, Dick! Here some one! Jemmy Branigan! Harry Lowry! Jack Clinton! Where are you all, you scoundrels?
Here, put this rascal in the stocks immediately! in with him!" Jemmy, who, from an adjoining room, had been listening to every word that passed, now entered.
"Here, you, sir: clap this vagabond in the stocks for his insolence.

He has come here purposely to insult myself and my son.

To the stocks with him at once." "No!" replied Jemmy; "the devil resave the stock will go on him this day.

Didn't I hear every word that passed?
An' what did he say but the thruth, an' what every one knows to be the thruth ?" "Put him in the stocks, I desire you, this instant!" "Throth if you wor to look at your mug in the glass, you'd feel that you'll soon be in a worse stocks yourself than ever you put any poor craythur into," replied the redoubtable Jemmy.

"Do you be off about your business, in the mane time, you good-natured vagabone, or this ould fire-brand will get some one wid less conscience than I have, that'll clap you in them." "Never mind, father," observed the son; "let the fellow go about his business--he's not worth your resentment." The pedlar took the hint and withdrew, accompanied by Jemmy, on whose face there was a grin of triumph that he could not conceal.
"I tould you," he added, as they went down the steps, "that the same stocks was afore you; an' in the mane time, God pardon me for the injustice I did in keepin' you out o' them." "Go on," replied the other; "devila harsh word ever I'll say to you again." "Throth will you," said Jemmy; "an' both of us will be as fresh as a daisy in the mornin', plaise goodness.